


Like a Prayer

by hikash0



Series: This Mind Was Never Mine [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Attempted suicide reference, Boundary Viloation, Brainwashing, Conditioning, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Abuse of a Minor, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Isolation, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Physical Abuse, emotional torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-24 22:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6169348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikash0/pseuds/hikash0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ben leaves the Jedi temple to walk his own path between the dark and the light, Snoke is there to meet him. Ben is still too young to know a truth from a gilded lie, or how false gods appear to burn so brightly in the glow of a dying star.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Final Providence

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part of an ongoing series. The first part, 'Void Under Skin' gives context to elements referenced in this installment. 
> 
> If you'd like, check it out here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5875699

Ben wakes in the dead hours of the morning, called to rise by a dull throbbing headache. He swings his feet over the side of the bed and touches down on the cool stone floor. He pauses for a moment, taking in the sounds of his room and the temple beyond. He reaches with his senses and feels Uncle Luke fast asleep next door.  

Since Ben's incident, Uncle Luke has moved rooms to be closer to him. Ben is deadly quiet as he gets dressed and gathers a small bag, filling it with essentials only. The point of this is to leave behind attachments. Still, without thinking, he pauses in front of the large platform that makes up his Dejarik. It is modeled after the set Chewbacca used during his parent’s adventures, before and after the fall of the Empire. Ben had grown up on the Falcon learning to play, particularly how to lose perfectly so that Chewbacca didn't feel patronized. To take it would be like carrying a piece of his mother and father, of Chewie and Luke. A ripple of a thought invades and interrupts his desire. _It is heavy. It will weigh you down, just like your family._ Ben hesitates for longer than he should before stealing out into the dark empty handed.  

He closes his eyes and calls out only once, with his whole soul. Immediately the dark hooks in. There is the feeling of a cold hand beneath Ben's chin. Praise flows through the contact, coaxing him forward. He stumbles a few paces before finding his footing through the trees. Deep in his chest he feels another specter hand test a coil of shining green thread that has been pulling thin of late. When it doesn't give, the twinge fades and the hand withdraws. He picks through the trees, blindly following his guide. Ben doesn't know what he will find when he arrives. He still isn't entirely sure if he's doing the right thing, or blindly making a mistake that can’t be taken back. There is a reverberation in his chest, a budding warmth woken by the intrusion. Ben stifles it as best he can. Being in the forest always makes the light shine clearer in his thoughts, but he can’t afford to fumble for the thin sliver that calls to him now.

Ben tells himself this is simply what he needs to do. People always speak of facing their fears, of facing their darkness. He reasons that this is a test on the road to becoming who he's meant to be. That he also needs to know the darkness to begin piecing together a way forward. The light had its time with him, and if the call to the dark is never ending, maybe this is the only way he can hope to achieve balance. 

After surviving himself, Ben made a silent promise to be more resilient. Ben knows he doesn’t really want to die, but rather to find peace in the possibility of a happy future. Once again he affords himself a glimmer of hope that the sides of the force aren't as starkly divided as the Jedi like to think. Maybe he does not have to choose between villain and hero after all, and can become something new, neither Sith nor Jedi. A neutral party between the pillars of light and dark, something like a grey knight.  

That's why he's optimistic despite the planet’s growing tug to turn tail and run. Why the sight of the ominous matte ship, that flashes into existence mere yards from where he climbs—waiting, quiet like a predator—only makes him falter for a moment.

As he crests the hill, the low-grade buzz in his head becomes a louder drone. Though it hurts, Ben powers through like usual, wondering if the pain will go away once he follows its call to that final mystery source. The ship's companionway is open and waiting. Ben acknowledges that he still has time to turn back, that he has the power to make the decision to walk in the opposite direction. He raises his hand to the back of his head and rubs the base of his skull, remembering what that choice feels like.

The ship's interior is minimal. Shiny black upon matte black. The design is unlike anything he's ever seen, almost organic in configuration. Seamless, close. The gangway closes behind him, and the connection to his guide vanishes, prompting Ben’s heart to start hammering in his chest. His eyes scan over the intimidating architecture, seeking out a window to soothe the claustrophobia he suddenly feels. 

He moves through the ship, scanning it. There is no pilot chair or command center. Only an alcove with seats arranged around the observation window. There is a bathroom facility and a small kitchen corner with most free space dedicated to a store of water and ration packs. As far as he can tell, the ship is absent of life. It must be a transport shuttle programmed to retrieve him. Ben thinks about what that means, how the expanse of space extends above him. Infinite, beautiful. Horrifying, dark. He could be going anywhere, to anyone, or anything. Visions of monsters skirt his outer thoughts but Ben chooses not to indulge them.

The ship shifts under him and Ben has a wild moment of vertigo as the ship prepares for takeoff. He places his face to the cool glass of the observation deck and looks out at the planet. He can see a gathering of light in the distance from what must be the Sun and Moon rising North on the Jedi temple. He settles into a seat closest to the window, and secures himself for takeoff.

What sounds like the drone of an enormous winged insect turns out to be the roar of the engine. The ship lifts and hovers over the surface of the planet for a moment. Ben barely has time to blink, and then the planet is a blip of green and blue, far, far out of his reach. Ben’s stomach drops out, brain not able to process quickly enough. He lunges forward, as if to catch the retreating planet. Panic dances in his chest. No. This isn't how his last moments are supposed to happen. He was going to watch the planet fade slowly, he was going to meditate, to let go of things gradually the way Uncle Luke had explained. Instead the whole affair feels cut short, any closure he had hoped for, taken away. Panic forms around the feeling. Not ready. Not yet. He didn’t get to say goodbye. 

Ben shuts his eyes against the speed of the transport as it travels through light. The ship must have one hell of a good particle modulator to keep them from being torn apart at the atomic level while it hurdles through space. He grips the edges of the window, makes it hurt, makes it feel real. He rushes to reconcile the abruptness of his departure, tries to revisit every detail of his life before this moment. Ben strives to memorize the lines of his father’s face and the shape of his mother’s brown eyes. The crookedness of Uncle Luke’s smile and the melodic murmur of Chewbacca singing him a lullaby. He can feel them slipping already, already a memory supplemented by his imagination, something soft and fuzzy about the image, something shifting in the details.

The ship exits warp and continues moving at a quick but stable pace. Ben immediately realizes he has landed in some new system, far beyond the reaches of any map he’s ever seen. As the ship moves through the system, planets that appear habitable dwindle, and satellite outposts decrease in number until eventually they stop appearing at all. 

Panic rising, Ben resorts to holding his head between his knees and breathing deep. Big gulp of air. Hold it-ten-nine-eight-seven. Exhale. Slow. Calm. Ben sternly tells himself that he chose this. That his current situation is a consequence of that choice, and certainly one he should have expected. He isn't a young Padawan anymore, he can’t give into the fear or the panic. He has to be stronger than that.

When he’s finally talked himself down from his state, Ben explores the ship. It doesn't take him long to exhaust himself invesitaging every corner of the small transport, only to still have no inkling of where it is taking him. By the end of the first twenty-four hours he's slept, eaten, and tried to chart his position twice without success. Frustrated, he sleeps again. 

By the second day, Ben has taken up a spot on the floor. He cracks open a packet of rations and wedges himself further into the corner near the window. He swaths himself in emergency blankets and eats as he stares into space. This quadrant doesn't seem to hold much of anything, a planet hasn’t come into range within 36hours and the light of the stars is nothing but a spattering of dull points against the oppressive black.

62 hours pass.

Ben staves off another round of quietly building anxiety. Despite counting, holding, and exhaling, he is having trouble regulating his breathing. He clings to Uncle Luke’s teachings to help keep him calm. He practices mindfulness, keeping awareness of his body and acknowledging his fears, not letting the later overwhelm his objective mind. The grated metal beneath the soles of his bare feet is slightly warm. The glass between himself and the expanse of space is cold. His back touches solid metal, and the ship’s internal mechanisms create vibrations that travel through his legs and up his torso, reverberating gently beneath his teeth and up into his hairline. He mentally scans his body and breathes in the small discomforts, he takes stock of his entire person, working to stay grounded and present. 

Eventually Ben manages to fall into shallow meditation. It's a simple exercise that has always been abnormally difficult for him. Ben’s mind rarely empties fully, rarely lets thoughts or feelings flow through with ease. Images, and snippets of conversation stick in the mud of his consciousness, memories and emotions trip over one another, vying for his attention. Small and trivial upsets cut his heart too deeply, and easily overwhelm him. It doesn’t help that he is always faced with two resonating lines of energy, paths that beckon him, never able to commit to walk down one or the other without consequences.

There is a ladder in a wide emptiness that spreads out around Ben. If he makes the choice to climb up, it feels as though weights have taken hold of his ankles, bent on dragging him down, calling sweetly to him from below. If he climbs down, suddenly his body is weightless and he begins to loose his grip on the ladder as he floats upwards.

His concentration is easily broken when the ship slows its trajectory and comes to a halt. The ship begins moving in an unnatural way, flight pattern disrupted, and Ben recognizes the directionless feeling of being pulled by a tractor beam. Anxiously he stands, pressing his face to the windows in an attempt to see who it is that has picked him up. He hastily stows the blankets that made up his little nest, along with the scattered rations packets. His mind races for ways to conceal his presence on the ship and he scans for places to hide in the event that he has been picked up by slavers, or other, equally unsavory company.

The transport slides to a halt and Ben sees space give way to the interior of a mothership. He dives under a storage bunk, cramming himself in and holding as still as possible. He barely dares to breathe, making do with the silent and shallow panting that confined space allows.

The cabin depressurizes and the gangway lets loose a stream of air. Ben goes deadly still, holding his breath. Images of horrible monsters, human and alien alike, bubble to the surface of his mind before he tells himself that darkness does not always mean evil, that appearances are not always all-telling. His grandfather was proof of that in the end. Ben assures himself he will be too.

Still, Ben is a jitter of tightly contained nerves as the gangway lowers fully, and slow footsteps begin making their way up the ramp towards him. The cabin becomes more oxygenated as its contents are swapped for the better regulated air of the mothership. 

The gangway is wide open and Ben fights with himself over whether or not to face the intruder. It’s not as if he could escape. They would only need to scan the ship for life forms. Maybe he shouldn’t hide, waiting to be found like a coward. He should meet his fate regardless of if it’s favorable. Feeling stupid and with his cheeks burning in embarrassment, Ben slides out from the storage compartment and moves to stand in plain view, just as the shadow of a form consumes the entrance of the gangway. 

The being steps into the dim artificial light and a ripple courses through Ben. It starts at the soles of his feet and races quickly under Ben's skin until his head is a crashing of conflating sounds and images.

The figure in front of him is tall enough that Ben needs to crane his neck to meet its face. It is not human and it is old as space is wide. Glassy blue eyes assure Ben that this is the creature that has been guiding his waking moments while haunting his dreams. Where there was once terror, there is nothing. An absence of feeling. Overrun, Ben has the sense of being in the presence of something so much larger than himself. The feeling of his personality being drowned out in preparation for something so much more. His sense of self is off kilter, he doesn’t know where his mind ends and the presence of the beings' begins. He tries to recall why he was so afraid back at the Jedi temple, what exactly felt so wrong about the presence of this creature in his mind. And yet…and yet now that it is in front of him, Ben can do little more than to remember to breathe.

“Hello Ben. My name is Snoke,”

Snoke’s voice quiets Ben’s world, brings a stillness to him he didn’t even know existed. He has enough awareness to feel wetness on his cheek, and brings his hand up to his face to find he is crying. Very empty, very cold inside. Abruptly his mind feels scrambled, as if, faced with something too overwhelming to comprehend, it is trying to peel apart. Ben lets loose a sob. He staggers forward, impossibly drawn to the being in front of him. 

“Come here child,”

Snoke holds his arms out for Ben and it’s like a prayer. Ben rushes into them, swept up in so much feeling. He hugs this creature that he does not know, and yet knows so well. Whether he screams in anguish or relief, Ben can not tell. 


	2. False God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a million years I'm back with the second chapter ayyy.
> 
> Definitely mind the tags please.

It’s been a month since he arrived, and Ben has yet to do anything that resembles training. Snoke hasn’t taught him a single technique, or revealed much information about who he is besides his name. Ben has gleaned from his own observations that the organization called The First Order seems to serve as a training program of sorts. All kinds of children pass through the base, never staying for long. Stormtroopers patrol the halls and the docking bay relentlessly, and huge crates of stuff are shipped in and out at all hours. Ben doesn’t know The First Order's official affiliation within the galaxy but the ominous presence of Stormtroopers and the military structure clue him in enough. Ben is young, he isn’t stupid. He’s been told enough war stories to know that he has willingly stepped across enemy lines, most likely into the path of very real danger.

He knows. He knows but he refuses to be blind-sided by a single version of events. The rebels, Luke Skywalker, his mother and father and the history they taught him; Ben can’t help but find it incomplete. The things they refused to speak about, even when he asked outright. How he felt fear in their voices as he eavesdropped on conversations in tones filled with regret and indecision. The complications, the compromises. Ben wants to know of them. He wants to have a complete and balanced picture of the world, he is drawn to have that fleshed out picture. He refuses to believe in pure good or pure evil without ambiguity. Ben refuses because it hits too close to the way he is. If there can be no bad in the good without muddling the whole, then what does that say about Ben?

Here in the base with Snoke, Ben feels the force less. It is a dumbed down version of what he's used to. After his initial encounter with Snoke face to face, Ben's senses are somehow dull. He feels like his same self, but not quite all of his self. He feels a vague haze in a part of his mind that cordons off overwhelming feelings. He can no longer access it, like a code he once had the key for but that has recently been overwritten. Did Snoke do this to him? Overwrite him? Contain him? He should feel alarm, probably a sense of danger, but when Ben remembers back to the alternative cacophony of conflict…It’s relief he feels instead. To not feel things so much…is peaceful. Of course the force is still there, still accessible to Ben, the backlash is just more...manageable now.

Without the chronic stress he bounces back quickly.

Snoke is attentive to Ben. Ben’s first days pass with two points of blue watching him always. Snoke seems to be trying to figure Ben out and Ben glows under the undivided attention. Without any pain to distract him, without worrying about rejection for his curiosity towards the dark, Ben is eager to spend as much time as he can with the mysterious being who has been calling to him since before he can remember. Snoke doesn’t answer Ben’s questions, but for now Ben doesn’t mind. Snoke satisfies Ben’s ego by telling him all of the things he’s been dying to hear. Gives him reassurance that there is nothing wrong with how he’s been feeling. That anger is normal and healthy, that insecurities are natural but that after all this time, Ben’s fears and anxieties are founded on sand. Sand that Snoke easily brushes away day after day of staying solidly by Ben’s side.

When he strays, things become confusing. Suddenly there’s a bit more static in his brain, a bit more splitting to his thought process. As a result, in the beginning, Ben stays close to Snoke. He resists his natural urge to explore the ship and instead watches the goings on from their elevated perch. Ben does well at rationalizing for another week or so, reminds himself that patience is invaluable to a Jedi...no...a force user. Soon though, he is struck by the inevitable restlessness that accompanies youth. In short, Ben is bored.

They eat together, good food, though Snoke watches Ben eat more than he touches his own meal. Ben follows Snoke and observes as he plots star charts, familiar systems Ben realizes, near the temple, near Yavin 4, and the Republic.

“Are we going there,” Ben asks, half hoping-half apprehensive.

Wouldn’t it be something if Snoke had some kind of plan to unite the force? There was a prophecy about it after all. If Snoke was actually like Ben, someone caught between two opposing points, someone who wanted the tug of war to stop. Someone who aimed for real balance. Not the one sidedness, the strict morality of light or the destruction of dark. If they were going back to negotiate with the resistance on behalf of the Empire, if diplomacy and embargo was par for the course…

Snoke turns and looks down at Ben, he lifts a large hand and places it on Ben’s head.

“So much hope in you still,”

Ben isn’t sure what Snoke means but he does’t miss the fact that Snoke dodged his question entirely. Snoke runs his hand across Ben's temple and through his hair. Ben frowns. He was sure...they were in a different room just now. Out of the corner of his eye Ben observes space, they are out in the open on a gangway. How did they get here. When?

“Come Ben, it is time for you to sleep,”

Ben doesn’t really feel like sleeping. It’s not as if he needs naps anymore. It’s barely noon. Orientation and time perception in space is impossible, but Ben keeps track of time as best he can using the ship’s logs that he accesses at a console in the dining area. He feels himself being lifted but can’t open his eyes. Softness at his back and a hand carding through his hair over and over sees him swiftly to sleep.

Snoke often asks Ben questions. About his family and home life. About Han Solo and Leia Organa, about Luke Skywalker. He quickly has Ben chattering about his time on Yavin 4, telling of his friends and favorite games. It is easy to talk to Snoke. Easier than talking to anyone else and Ben doesn’t worry about what he says. Doesn’t hold back on his frustration with his parents, about how his father left too often and his mother both smothered and neglected. Boys and girls and the ones he liked best or worst. The time he placed a dying grasshopper beside a colony of ants just to see what would happen. How angry his mother had gotten and how he had felt a deeper emotion, an underlying fear and thoughts like _Cruel. Lack of empathy. Warning sign._ Red and burning in his brain. He didn’t rat to her of the many other children who did it too, who poked at worms or pulled legs and wings off of insects. Who captured small amphibians and chased rodents with phasers set to stun. Snoke tells him that most children do things of that sort, that it is more based in curiosity about the natural world than any kind of maliciousness. He praises Ben for his silence. Tells him it was bravery. That it was loyalty, and honor that prompted him to protect his friends. He tells Ben that the dark side of the force treasures curiosity and relies on strong emotional ties to friends and lovers.

There are however, certain things Ben does not wish to share. He does not like to express in words the way he felt inside the first time he recognized the dark. Snoke pushes the issue. A steady stare, a firm palm covering Ben's, the full force of his focus for a few seconds is all it takes.

Ben hides his eyes in his meal and does his very best not to shy away. His mouth feels like chalk and his tongue is impossibly heavy as he haltingly talks of sickness and a spiraling loss of control. Of something spreading and reaching, consuming like a fever. How it wouldn't stop even though he didn't want it, he didn't want it.

"Ben,"

Ben shuts his eyes as tight as they will go. He is shaking. Sweat soaking through his undershirt. Snoke's hand slides up his forearm and Ben senses him come around the table to kneel in front of him.

"It's a gift Ben,"

Ben lets out the breath he was holding. He can't help the hitch, the tears.

"I don't want it,"

Snoke's other hand comes up to his face, wipes along the wet tracks down his cheeks.

"In time you will,"

\---

The first time he tries to slip away from Snoke to explore on his own he is halted by a single look. Ben slinks back, effectively cowed. Snoke gives no explanation, offers no reasons, but Ben resolves that if he is playing at growing up he also needs to try his hand at patience. This is probably some kind of force training anyway, like the silent meditation exercises Uncle Luke would have him and his peers practice at the temple. Ben's patience barely lasts a day before he forgets he is trying to play adult and he has the brilliant idea to attempts a force trick.

It takes intense focus, but Ben breathes deeply and reaches out with a tendril of a thought. He senses for the thread that connects him and Snoke and carefully, quietly, he follows the link until he is at the threshold of the entrance to Snoke's mind. A giddy feeling overtakes Ben. He's never been the one to try entering another person's mind before. He wonders what it feels like to be the one sneaking in. He’s very close now. A heavy thrum begins in his mind’s ear, a high speed vibration resonates through his teeth. So close now, Ben feels exhilaration, wonders if Snoke will praise him for his improved control over the force. He tweaks at the edge of a barrier and—

Snoke's head snaps down and his eyes freeze Ben in place. Immediately Ben regrets everything.

There is not only a mental attack but a physical blow too. A visceral, sharp crack of bone and skin stinging Ben’s soft cheek. It takes him to the floor. Catches lips on teeth and he bleeds.

"I'm so-"

Ben earns another slap. His eyes fixate on the ground, searching for some meaning there. He’s never been hit in earnest. At least not as punishment, or even ever outside of sparring. Ben doesn’t know why, but he can’t hold back his tears. They well in his eyes and he feels small. Like he’s seven again, devastated after making a mistake. Another blow to his face and is mind short-circuits.

Ben drops to one knee, breathing shallow. It terrifies him. How is he supposed to fix it? He looks up, wide-eyed. All of a sudden, the connection he feels to Snoke has been severed. Yanked out at the root. It hurts so much Ben cannot form words.

Snoke stops and observes him silently. Ben gasps around the loss, tries to reach out for that mental connection, that mental comfort he was so completely lost in during their first meeting, but he is brushed aside easily. He grasps at the remnants of Snoke’s mind against his but they are no longer there. Ben does not know what he should do. The emptiness is devouring, like a sucking wound. He hopes if he does nothing, if he awaits guidelines, a reprimand that never comes, that he will be forgiven. Snoke turns heel and walks out, leaving Ben rooted to the spot for the quarter hour it takes him to recover from the initial withdrawal.

He is disoriented for the next few days and relegates himself to his sleeping quarters. He curls his body tightly into a corner and covers his head with a pillow. The dullness is gone. Full force. Full feeling. Energy in the shape of hundreds of bodies clamor for Ben’s attention. Two months, maybe three, how long has it been? He is out of practice at blocking the force, out of practice at shielding the emotions of non-force sensitives. Strangers move about the decks below, untrained, practically screaming their thoughts at Ben until he reaches back for Uncle Luke’s teachings and begins to ground himself into a slow meditation. He passes into an uneasy sleep and a long stretch of self-imposed isolation.

The next time he greets his master, Ben's stomach can't help but twist in knots. Not a moment has passed where Ben doesn't regret prying. Snoke looks at him dispassionately and reaches out with a long pale hand. Ben tells himself he does not flinch. But what then can he call the uncontrollable jerk his body makes in the second before Snoke gently cups his cheek. 

“Good job, Ben,"

Ben blinks. What?

“You did so well,”

Snoke reopens the line that connects them through the force and Ben cries like the first time they met.

\---

He hasn't seen Snoke in days. A bot brings food to his room, a droid trails behind him, delineating the restricted areas of the ship. The droid is smoother, sleeker and newer than the ones Ben is used to spending time with at the temple. It would still be laughably easy for Ben to outmaneuver it, to get to a place beyond it’s monitors and scanners. Ben doesn’t dare try such things.

For a week at least.

His boredom grows again, unbearable restlessness, uncontrollable fidgeting. The want to run and jump and tear away down one of the many halls, to climb into crevices and lift floor panels to expose the vein work of the ship in the form of wires and piping…where is Snoke? Why is he being ignored? Ben wants to chase down his master but he doesn’t dare do that either.

A somersault from one walkway to another takes him away from the droid quickly. He doesn’t stray far. He tells himself that being a few meters away from its side won’t hurt anything. Ben runs the length of a parallel walkway. The droid beeps in protest and Ben laughs at it from across the void. The beeping increases in speed. Ben taunts it now and it does a high pitched yelling reminiscent of a parent crossed with a deflating balloon. He grins and thinks how nice it is to have a friend to tease.

Snoke is waiting when Ben runs laughing through the door to his quarters, droid beeping frantically in pursuit.

He stops so quickly that the mass of machinery smacks into his back and sends him stumbling forward. It whirs in what could sound like concern. Then the shriek and groan and _jug-jug-jug_ of crunching gears has Ben turning just in time to see the large droid crumple in on itself like nothing more than a used pack of rations.

He doesn't dare talk but his mouth works around the silence of the words he wants to say.

"It was faulty. Unable to complete its task. Come Ben, let's have dinner,"

The lines are delivered so plainly. As if it is the most logical statement. It's task. Watching Ben was its task, making sure Ben didn't stray too far. That was its task. He remains crouched, stuck where he stumbled. Ben reminds himself that it's just a droid. It really shouldn't make him feel so-

"Ben,"

Snoke's tone is so neutral, so calm, but Ben can feel...can feel irritation and anger laid thick and heavy over something else he can't reach.

It's enough to make him turn away and take a quiet seat at the table.

He has no appetite for the food in front of him. It is good like it always has been. Standard and nutritious, but Ben still can't drag his thoughts away from the droid who's remains lie prone just behind him.

He reaches for the fork mechanically, unenthusiastically. Too late he realizes Snoke has been speaking. How is it that Ben couldn't hear him?

Ben looks up just in time to see Snoke's mouth twitch downwards. Ben touches the cold, slim handle of his fork, First Order standard steel. It twists and snaps in half beneath his palm.

No. That _is_ his palm, _his_ fingers bending back much too far.

He barely has time to register the pain. His stomach drops, a sense of horror starts to overtake him—and just like that his hand is whole again. Ben is left stalling, mouth open to scream, now stuttering on staccato breath. The memory of the pain stays with him, becomes ingrained in his body. He feels nauseated, remembering the phantom twisting of his fingers as they popped out of their joints and splintered. But then no, he is fine and there is no actual pain. Ben looks at his perfect, unblemished hand. He feels outside of his body. He questions time and reality, uncomprehending. Wondering if he made it all up, wondering if it even happened.

Snoke takes up Ben's hand. It is so small compared to Snoke’s. He traces pale fingers over the veins that show through Ben’s skin, feeling for bones out of place. Ben finds himself angling away, anticipating more hurt. It never comes. Snoke looks down at him and smiles. It is a beautiful smile despite Snoke’s disfigurement. The feeling of praise washes over Ben, and makes him forget the confusion of...imagined pain?

“You’re doing so well,”

Ben’s lip trembles. Heartache and vague nausea battle with an overwhelming relief. He's avoided rejection somehow. Snoke continues to hold Ben’s hand.

“Today you will walk with me, stay by my side, that is all you need to do for now,”

Ben nods, stifles his urge to question, worried that a misplaced word will earn disapproval. Or worse.

\---

Ben continues to live this very strange and static life. Still there is no training, no new information, nothing but boredom, the same hallways, the same meals with Snoke where his master watches Ben eat without touching his own plate.

Ben continues to fail, to be hurt, to be forgiven. To “pass” these strange tests.

Weeks slide by as Ben struggles to navigate what is deemed acceptable and unacceptable. He knows when he is found lacking. Snoke is never shy to reprimand him. Never hesitant to punish. The force-void that hollows out abruptly and profoundly inside Ben’s chest is evidence of that. Sometimes, it leaves him non-functioning. Terror in the way his body betrays movement to paralysis, to shock. It lasts hours and only wears off when Snoke retrieves him and re-establishes their connection. Because of this, Ben is extra careful not to stray too far from his room, from the private and secure quarters that he and Snoke share.

He loses track of time in these mundane and violent days. Boredom gnaws incessantly. Restlessness piles on top of restlessness and not enough exercise. Something of an anxiety begins to hum constantly along the back of Ben’s shoulders. He becomes twitchy, flinching for no good reason. Startled by sound for no good reason. What is wrong with him? He wakes up in places he doesn't remember falling asleep and soon he no longer knows what time of day it is, doesn’t know how long it’s been since he arrived. He is growing out of his clothes, inch by inch. Snoke gifts him a new robe. Black and grey. His old clothes disappear and Ben does not ask for them back. He seeks out Snoke as much as he can, but lately Snoke doesn’t want to be found. He's been left without a chaperone, forgotten for now, and that realization is so baffling. Ben doesn't know what to do with himself. He stays frozen. Waiting for direction. Waiting for Snoke. Waiting to be called. He eats alone. Hours or days pass the same way. Alone. Maybe it's weeks, he can't barely keep track of his thoughts lately.

Alone.

Eventually, after a long internal struggle, Ben dares to follow his natural impulses. There is no reprimand, which must mean he is allowed, and he slowly begins to wander the rest of the large base. There are maintenance droids here and there, and the occasional storm trooper, who he hides from, but not much else. Nothing he hasn't already seen within the boundaries of his permitted territory.

When a ship arrives and a spattering of new stormtrooper cadets spill out into the docking bay, Ben withdraws to observe the newcomers from somewhere he hopes he won't be seen. Even as teenagers they are calculated and precise, with no time to waste on useless movements or stupid questions. Much better than Ben ever was. Ben notices one at odds with the group, head on a swivel, swiftly scanning the ship, lagging behind the line to get a good look at everything. This trooper quickly catches sight of Ben, as if he is what they are searching for. Ben's heart speeds up. It is both terrifying and elating, the hope to be noticed by someone after so long. The trooper pauses in line and makes the smallest, tiniest of waves.

Ben looks around, as if there is someone else the trooper could be waving to.

Slowly, he waves back.


End file.
